


The Queen's Falcon

by BrokenDawnAngel



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Assassins, Death, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I'm Sorry, Language, Murder, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other people will be in relationships too, Plot Twists, Rating May Change, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Suggestive Themes, Supernatural Elements, Violence, mostly canon, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 08:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3803407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenDawnAngel/pseuds/BrokenDawnAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I do not own Black Butler in any shape or form.</p></blockquote>





	The Queen's Falcon

Our lives start with us kicking and screaming. From the moment we take our first breath, we are crying, demanding something from life that we don’t quite understand and neither does it. No we come into the light crying out bare and frighten of what is all around having only known warmth before and the cooing of our mothers’ voice, of our fathers’ warm hands holding us, finding the need to count every finger and toe. That’s how our lives start, more often than not. Frighten, screaming and cold.

And that’s usually how it ends. 

Cold and numb if you are lucky, screaming and frightened if not. It is something that someone will never notice until their time is up. When your own heart struggling to push what little life it has left through you. Cold falling over you as everything seems to loose it’s warmth as you sink further and further into Death’s embrace. Screaming and crying you have so much left to do, so much unsaid, so much more left to see. This is when you realize you leave just how you entered this world, and just as quick as it had started, it ends…..

Life is cruel, life is hard. These are lessons life teach you. People lie, people hurt, people will try to shatter you just to reach the top……Though just as these truth’s ring true so do others. People love, people cry, and sometimes people will hold on and never let go. They can smile through the pain and make another’s day a little brighter just as easy as they can collapse beneath it. Life teaches you to hate, teaches you to care, teaches you what hurts and teaches you to laugh. No matter what colors are brushed across the canvas life has a start, and an end. You’ll see at the end of every stroke, when the grand artist stands back from the painting that is your life, it will be beautiful all the same. 

This is something I realize as I struggle to breath, each breath feeling like I’m swallowing down another handful of glass after the other. My lugs felt as if they were going tear apart in my chest as my heartbeat rang in my ears, clear as a school bell. It calling me to my last lesson I suppose. My shoulders shudder and shook as a cough racked my body, causing my already trembling arms to give out from under my weight. I could hardly see as it was, even as my forehead bounced off the cold ground I couldn’t really tell what was in front of my face. Was that dirt, stone maybe? The world was dim, black spots dancing across my vision as I fought to keep my eyes open. I was so tired, so very tired. My eye lids felt like lead. I could feel something wet dribbling from my lips as I gasped, trying to force the air into my lungs. Every breath was wet and raspy. How did I end up like this? A once proud, noble woman, a servant of her majesty the Queen? Now writing in the dirt, choking on her own blood. Unable to even scream as I desperately grasp at life? My once flawless dress drenched in what I could only say is my own blood….No I don’t think it’s all mine….no, I know it’s not. He had been bleeding too….Foolish, I was so fucking foolish. Look where it’s gotten me now?!

It’s a long, long tale. Full of more twist and turns then I could possibly imagine being right in one woman’s life….No, I’m rather sure that one woman should not have seen as much as I have at my age. I suppose I had a good life in my own right….who the hell am I kidding?! I wasn’t done! I couldn’t be done yet….right?! I have so much left in life, so much more! I-I can’t be…….please, don’t let me die…….I don’t want to die…..Not yet! Please, not yet!

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My life started like everyone else’s, screaming.

A woman’s gasps filled the air, ragged breaths and sobs filling the air trying to drown out the gentle encouragements of a midwife who smoothed her sweat slicked ebony locks. Said woman’s face twisted in pain as another labor pain shot through her body leaving the young, frail thing screaming in pain. Words that should never leave a proper lady’s mouth shooting forth as she writhed in pain despite her midwife’s soothing words. Dark strands clinging to the curve of her cheeks, cemented by sweat and tears. She trying to breathe the best she can, the woman kept telling her over and over to breathe, as if it would lessen the pain, but with each strangled gasp a cry of pain rocked through her. “Ge-get this damned thing out of me!” She screeched, long nails digging into the ruined, sweat stained silk.

Heh, damned?....This was the hardest thing any woman has to go through in this life, brining life to the little person she had been carrying for nine months, caring for and protecting and this was what cemented this lady as the wife of a duke. How grand to be the bride of duke, a man in a position of power who held lives in the palm of his hand. Even as his temples started to gray, and his eyes start to be creased by Father Time’s mastered strokes. He was still an attractive man, and attractive gentleman with power….How could a pretty young thing say, no?.....It’s sad how much easier life might have been for someone if you had only looked past blood lines, pedigrees….titles under our dear Queen. The woman must have considered herself blessed to have caught the eye of the last of the Amill’s. The last surviving member of three children, and missing his own as well. Blessing might have been a strong word you poor, dear.

Her screams were soon replaced by another. A beautiful sound to any mother’s ears. “Congratulation! It’s a boy, my lady. What a handsome young lord he is.” The elder midwife of the three cooed, holding the little one carefully as she cleared away its mouth and nose. The first cry of her child as he took his first breath. Little body covered in blood as he’s quickly scooped away to be cleaned off. Lady Collet laid gasping, strewed across the bed. Finally it was over, it was finally done. She had given her husband a boy, the other ladies would seethe in envy that her first child was a boy. Not that being a Duchess didn’t make her sisters positively green to start with.

Poor woman, in retrospect, you can’t help but pity her, can you? She had the same ambition as many others. Marry above her station, become the envy of her peers, and to prove herself as a proper woman. It was a simple wish really…Yes selfish and deeply narcissistic at times, but it was a true wish through and through. I never even knew the woman and I’ve felt a twang of pity for that poor woman. It was a shame the lady didn’t believe in curses before she agreed to become his bride. Though neither did he……not until his world turned to ash.

“Ack-!” A saddened strangled sound came from the woman, long, ring clad fingers clutching onto the sweat drenched nightgown as she curled forward, eyes wide in panic and pain as her heart clenched as if it was trying to pull in on itself. It felt as if she was being run through with a dull blade, it twisting and turning trying to wiggle it’s way deeper as if it hadn’t quite reached it’s mark. Her wide frighten eyes watered with fresh tears as she clawed at her own chest and throat as if she could pull off the invisible hands as she struggled and flailed away from the women that were trying to help her clean up.

“Mistress? Mistress?!” The youngest of the three girls gasped trying to reach for the young woman’s hands. The midwife couldn’t be no more than twenty six and the Duchess couldn’t be no more than four, five years her junior. It had to be frightening to witness such a sight as the suddenly frantic new mother was clawing and tugging at her own skin and dress, she spilling new blood as she created deep cuts across her fair skin. The young midwife looked up, eyes wide and frantic as the other women tried to hold down the mad woman before she could harm herself more. The child’s cry a distant mummer under the clatter and crashes that filled the room. Shadows dancing upon the wall as one more whale filled the room before all that could be heard was the wailing of the small newborn boy as he laid in his cradle.

“Collet, how-…..” The elder man, his back still straight and shoulders back, but a true eager smile had pulled across him lips. It would have been the first true smile she had seen since she had married the man. He always so quiet, so distant to her, to everyone in the manner. She had never hesitated to groan to a maid of how cold he positively was. There was no love in this marriage, it was just one of convince and lust. Though at that moment he had been genuinely excited for the first time in years. He had just come in the door, his loyal butler assisting the tired man out of his coat. It had been a long trip. The man duty bound to many a business trip, prone to being gone for days at a time, if not weeks. Though when he had heard his wife scream, he could only assume she had gone into labor. She didn’t seem the sort to put up well with pain, and from what he understood from his first bride, it wasn’t a pleasant experience. He had wanted to see his new child his last chance.

Though the sight he was met with, would always haunt the man. The gruesome, bloody sight. Four ladies painted red, the apologetic teary, frightened eyes of the midwives looking to him as if to ask forgiveness….mercy maybe. “M-my lord…..I’m so, so sorry…..”

The man could only stand there, his face blank, unmoving as the familiar metallic smell hit him like a train. His large, nimble hand loosely draped on the brass handle, long fingers draped over the edge loosely. The ladies couldn’t see a single muscle loosen. He never slouched, he never crumpled. He just stared, a far off look in hid dull, brown eyes. For a moment one could say when she told this story again the only sign she had saw of the man loose his composure, show and ounce of emotion over his wife’s passing was that he seemed to pale. The man only turned away, the candles flickering across the wall making shapes to dance across the walls as he walked over to his whaling child, looking down at the crying boy swaddled in a white blanket. Without a word to the ladies, the man had reached into the crib, scooping the infant up in his hands before he nimbly maneuvered the newborn into the crook of his arms. He softly shushing the child as he turned and walked back out of the room.

“My lord?”

“Please inform my staff about the mess, I shall call the doctor myself..” That deep rumble of a voice, a soft rumble. His tone calm, composed, and dare it be said, indifferent. His gloved hand, gently cupping his new child’s head as he walked away. He never broke, he never shattered, and he hardly seemed to acknowledge it. Not even a glance back, as the man walked back down the hall, the shadows seeming to crawl up the walls of the manor. Looming above him as the candles flickered. It was as if the devil himself was trailing behind him to taunt him one midwife would say one day…..It was a shame they were never going to tell their story.

The doctor said it was a sudden heart attack. That she falling into hysterics had only aggravated her situation. The only explanation he could offer up was that maybe she had a weak heart that her doctor never properly documented. Heart attacks didn’t just happen for no reason, right? Every scratch on her had been deep, bloody gouges, and layers upon layers of skin under her nails. It looked as if a wild animal had tried to rip her apart. The duke never returned to that room, not when her body had been there, no, he had been far too busy arranging for interviews with proper nannies and nurse maids. He threw his all into that little boy. Though not a day after he had buried his bride did he loose his child as well. His last chance, his family name and future was crumbling around him….His world starting to burn around him. Greater men have shattered from less than this. Living through the death of what had been three children at that point, two wives, and the running away of his only girl. His world trying to crumble and turn to ash around him……Though, the Duke was never one to crumple easily….Even if it meant giving up all he had to get what he wanted. Be it wealth, his dignity, his very soul, he was going to have his last chance……Men have made deals with devils for less, haven’t they?

The wind bellowed, the clatter of a branch clattering against the glass of what had once been his new son’s room. Hallow, empty brown eyes looked down into the basinet that still held his still son. It had been such for over an hour now. The greying duke hunched over, shoulders tensed and trembling as he continued to gaze down at the unmoving infant, no matter how long he stared, how long he willed, his boy’s chest would not rise and fall, nor would it bring the heat back to his skin. No matter how it looked as if he was only sleeping, it took no fool to decide that the newborn had no more life in him. He had damned that Maid over, and over again. It had to be her fault in his mind, somehow, someway…..how could his son just…how could he just stop breathing? He was fine…He was FINE, when he had left earlier that evening! Just an errand a bit of business that needed a few loose ends tied up before he could really take time off to properly wait out the mourning period, it would only be proper after all. He would spend that time catching up on paperwork, checking in on his son and finding him a proper nursemaid. 

The man let out a shout of rage as he turned away from his son’s body, ripping the mobile from above him with enough gusto that bits of the wall fell on the uncovered boy. Duke Amill burying his fingers in his thick, red hair no sooner had he thrown the bit of polished silver. It having had been shaped like moon’s and stars. He had picked it out himself when he had been told his wife was pregnant….He picked a good deal of what filled the room, himself. The woman had been more concerned about dresses and shoes. Finding finer furniture for the salon then preparing the room for their son. That white and gold trimmed basinet, the lacquered rocking chair, cushioned by a beautiful golden colored pillow, down to even the white drapes. All he had left was the toys. He wanted to wait to see what gender his child was going to be before he bought dolls or trains.

Though there was his last chance. Cold and breathless. His only do over gone. Maybe if this was all just about fatherly pride, wanting to finally raise another child differently than his other three. Two dead, and one an ungrateful daughter who ran away with a Kitchen boy. No, family line depended on this, the future of the Amill name, their business, their long time duty to their Queen. What good was a Falcon on its last wing? Maybe with was some divine retribution, some sick cosmic joke for all his sins? A dark chuckle left him at such a thought as he hunkered over, those dark brown eyes wide and wild. They held a certain madness, a certain desperation. Was this God’s punishment? Rip away everything he has, every branch off his tree to repay him for all the lives he took, for every man and woman caught in the falcons talons? He was doing his duty for the Queen…..what sort of merciful God would punish a single man like this? He couldn’t let his family come to this. To end with him. His soul cried out in desperation, wounded, darkened, and a little mad as he fell to his knees on the floor, his first sob to break past his lips.

It was a tantalizing call, the desperation so heavy how could one not be tempted to come to this prey? Though the snake always did love when a Falcon hopped about, a crippled wing made for an easy meal. A prideful noble, strength in his very spirit….that always made a tantalizing meal.

“Damn you, damn you all!” He snarled hand slamming into the thick rug, his rough palm hitting with greater and greater force. “What sort of God are you?! Damn you, damn you, you hear me?! I’d throw my lot in with the Devil himself! You’ll not have my house! You shall not! I’d sell my own soul you retched excuse before I let a sadist like you to rip it all from me!” He screamed to no one in particular, who had thought someone would have actually heard?

A chill ran down his spine, ceasing his trembling as it ran his spine stiff and ridged as a sudden chill seem to fall over the room, lightening streaking across the sky filled the room with light for just a moment before thunder nearly shook him down to his very bone. He glanced up from his prone position upon thick white carpet. His dark slacks as stark contrast. Though what made the Duke cringe in embarrassment was when his glance greeted him with a pair of dark shoes among the long shadows that cloaked every bit else. All he could see was purple eyes gazing into the very depth of his soul it seemed. “I might not be the Dark lord himself, but I hope I would do?” A voice purred, it like silk.

“W-who the hell are you?!” The man snarled, slowly raising himself back up, eyes narrowing into a glare as the voice chuckled at him, as if he had told some sort of joke. He couldn’t honestly tell if it was male or female. It had a depth to it seemed to hold a melodic like tone to it. 

“You called did you not? For someone to repair a Falcon’s wing?” The voice purred staring into his eyes. The voice sounding more and more amused as a look of realization fell upon him. “You want that chance do you not?” The eyes finally breaking from his own to look over him at the bassinet. “You only need to make a wish my lord, only a single wish and I’ll do as you ask of me….I’m sure there is still one of your blood that still lives…..I’m sure she wouldn’t mind being short one mouth, do you?” 

A silence fell over the room, the Duke looking at the creature with utter fascination….had he….had he call upon a devil? NO that was madness, insanity!....Demons…demons do not exist! “W-what do you want in return….” He couldn’t help but ask, looking into the depth of those odd hues.

“Only your everlasting soul my lord. Just your soul for the future of the Amill name, for your family to grow strong, noble, to be a force to be reckoned with it not only influence, but in wealth, prestige. You only need to make an accord with me.” The voice purred, stepping closer to him, the shadows following as the creature moved closer. “You only need to say you accept, tell me your wish, and once it’s been accomplished I shall have what I want….A fair trade. Honest and true…..you only need to be willing to turn away from the gates of Heaven. You won’t be given a second chance, even if you look away from it just this once.” The voice warned.

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?! How will I know you won’t just break your word?!” The dispirit man snapped refusing to back away from the figure as it had closed in on him the candles of the room seeming to flicker in an unfelt breeze.

“A contract is a contract sir, I’ll be just as bound by it as you. I shall be at your every wish, your every command until the day our contract is complete.” An inky hand, it dripping with shadows like a bottle of ink spilt. “You only need to give me your wish….Do you accept my offer, my lord?”

Duke Connor Amill was never a man to falter. He would climb a mountain of corpses if that was what it took to get what he thought was needed, what he wanted. That had been a truth as long as I have known him all my life. This was no different.

Lightning flashed as the storm seemed to rage, a branch pounding on the glass as if in protest to his movement as he reached out grasping the black hand in his own. The shadows falling away to reveal a fair face, and long, dark blue locks to accompany those haunting eyes. Lips almost too full for a man smiled at him with the sweetest sincerest of smiles. “Very well creature, you can have my soul if you can fulfill my wish. The future of my house….I need a new heir, one of my blood”

“Yes, my lord…..Your wish, is my command.” The man before him purred, eyes bright as he fell to his knee. “Only give me a name….”

A start that was bathed in blood, filled with lies. Of screaming and tears. Yes my start was normal enough I suppose….A noble men having a demon snatch his own grandchild from her bed. The death of three midwifes. That was the start of my life….Maybe red had larger strokes on my canvas then I ever thought much of. Maybe it would only be just for mine to end in it, shouldn't it?

Though, you see my dear friends…..that was just the start, my beginning. The heart of this tell hasn’t even truly begun…for you see my life lead me to this place, choking on my own blood in the oddest of ways. My ‘father’ on a business trip, me bright eyed and naïve, buried in a blanket of lies that were truths to me. On the day I met the Queen’s Guard dog, and his butler, dressed in black.

This was the bloody start of the tale of Felicia Amill. The Falcon of our fair Queen.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Black Butler in any shape or form.


End file.
